


Sleep with One Eye Open

by Carbon65



Series: B's get degrees [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 3D Printers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Rule 63, art major jack, mornings are terrible, nerf guns, spot the ruthless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-15 12:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbon65/pseuds/Carbon65
Summary: "Why, that’s a gun pressed to the back of your head. rise and shine, sleeping beauty."





	Sleep with One Eye Open

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings  
> \--------  
> Nerf guns

Jack wakes up, and feels something hard pressed against the back of his of neck. At first, he thinks he picked a really crappy pillow. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Race still likes to tell the story about how he fell asleep in a pile of tubas when they were kids with Medda. And that time he took a nap on the fire escape. And the morning he woke up using Race’s dirty laundry basket as a pillow. And a penis drawn on his face. Although in his defense, he’d been drunk, and so had Race. 

And then, he rolls over and realizes something is far more wrong than accidently curling up with one of the 3D printed cowboys for his semester project. And, he realizes that maybe it was a mistake to fall asleep here. He should know better. This is an unprotected space, anyone could come in.

But, he’d forgotten. He’d been tweaking the plans in CAD for the parts he needs for his next project, and trying to work on the paper for his Tandem class. He really needs to get through it this time, he really needs that Comp I credit that he’s supposed to get out of it. He doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to write a damn essay, but it always has been. He sits down, and he could tell you the words. It’s just that when he sits down, they don’t come out the same way. 

So, sue, him, he’d been distracted and it had been 2 am, and he’d forgotten what today was. Yes, he’d gotten an email reminder about it, same as all the other freshman. Yes, he’d dutifully taken a trip out to the suburbs with Race and Charlie. And, yes, they all might have taken turns riding around in the little motorized grocery wheelchair cart until some employee came over to yell at them and didn’t believe that Charlie’s cane was real, because “You’re too young.” All those thing still didn’t click that today - Friday, October 13 - was the first day of Assassins.

He shifts slightly on the couch, reaching for the Nerf gun he’s got hidden between the cushions. His fingers close on a foil wrapper that he really hopes was from someone’s protein bar, but is probably too slimy. 

He feels the plastic press harder against the base of his skull.

Leaving his arm trapped in the couch cushions and desperately searching, he rolls over and blinks his eyes open. 

He had been hoping he was paranoid. He’s not. He’s looking up into a pair of calculating blue eyes.

“Why yes, Kelly, that’s a gun pressed to your head,” Spot Conlon says. “Rise and Shine sleeping ugly.”

And, okay, this weird. He knows of Spot for two reasons, and two reasons only. 

The first he can almost feel burning a hole through the pocket of his jeans if he can just find… nope. Another wrapper. Definitely not a candy bar. 

The other has to do with Charlie. Charlie has been crushing on Spot since they started school. This semester, they have Intro to Psych together Tuesday and Thursday mornings, right before lunch. And then Crutchie meets up with Jack and Race at the dining hall to pour his damn heart out. So, Jack knows all sorts of things about Spot, although only a few seem salient at the moment. First, he knows that Spot is from Brooklyn. Everyone knows that Brooklyn boys are big, and… Spot may disappoint. Jack could pick her up and throw her over his shoulder. Actually, he might, later. Second, she’s one of the three things Charlie is afraid of in the whole world. The kid is nearly immune to fear. Except for raccoons, icy stairs without handrails, and hot glue guns. And he says Spot Conlon makes him nervous. The third is that Spot is pressing a Nerf pistol to the back of Jack’s neck at 6:24 am on a Friday morning.

“Jesus, calm down.” He shifts up on the bed, mindful of the dart held at close range. “Calm the fuck down. What do you need?”

“You live with David Jacobs?” Spot asks, the words not really a question.

Damn, she’s done her research. Better than he has, that’s for sure. He has no idea who his target’s roommate is. Or where said roommate pulls her all nighters.

“Yeah…” He agrees, slowly. 

He uses his right hand to rub at the sleep still in his eyes, and makes one last-ditch effort to subtly search through the couch cushions. 

“Good,” Spot says. “We’re going to go to breakfast with him.” She continues to hold the gun pointed at him.

“Ummm…” Jack says. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but...”

The foam dart hits her in the shoulder. 

“I don’t eat breakfast. And, I’ll need Davey’s name from you, Spot. You’re dead.”

The terrifying Spot Conlon - and yes, now he knows what they mean when they say that - stares at him slack jawed. But, she hands him her ID anyway so he can snap a picture. And mail it in. And then, he collects her name: David Jacobs, just like she said.

“I’ll tell you what, though. Today, I’ll make an exception.”

“Fuck you, Kelly. Not today. Well played, but not today.” Spot’s brow furrows. “But, I promise you watch your back.” 

Jack nods, and winces. “Yeah, I think I learned my lesson.”

Spot chortles. “Yeah, I think you did.” She hikes up her bulging backpack. “Oh, and Kelly? You got a condom wrapper stuck to your cheek.”


End file.
